Chapter 119 – Rainy Season (2)
There were quite a few employees working at Isabella’s mansion.
Although the scale of the mansion was not small, there was no reason for it to have many people to manage it like the mansions of the capital’s nobles.
There was no owner in the mansion with a picky personality or someone who liked showing off his wealth.
However, whatever the reason, the number of employees employed in the mansion was larger than the number of employees required to be in a mansion of the same size.
Of course, no users had much doubt about this. For them, it was a good job that paid a constant and regular salary, and many people, especially those living in small villages, worked as tenants of Isabella’s mansion.
Most of the men in the village do work related to the farm owned by the mansion, and the women in the village usually do work related to the mansion.
This is a trend that many people in this small town have gone through, and it is usually something they have considered as a career at least once.
Exceptional talent, outstanding beauty, or a passion to move forward despite difficulties.
It may have been a natural trend for many people, other than those who had things that ordinary people did not have, to live in mansions.
So, it was inevitable that Uncle Reggie, who woke up early in the morning to transport milk from the farm, and Jennifer, who was now Isabella’s exclusive employee, were also working at the farm.
Veronica, or rather Becky’s parents, were the same.
Becky’s parents were the people who met at this mansion and farm in the first place. My father lived in the village, and my mother came here from a neighboring village to find a job.
Becky, their daughter, heard a lot about Gordon and his only daughter, Isabella, who were famous people in the neighborhood from a young age. Sometimes, when my parents had a good night’s drinking, they would listen to each other ad nauseam about how much Mr. Gordon had contributed to the town.
However, to young Becky, Gordon was someone she had never seen before, so her parents’ stories were just laughable and did not provide much inspiration.
The first time she felt how influential a man named Gordon was at the funeral of Gordon’s wife, Adelaide.
It was the place where she saw the most people she had ever seen, including all the villagers she knew.
It was the moment when a girl named Becky, who knew nothing, felt for the first time what influence meant.
“How much time has passed?”
“You’ve been there for hours already. You skipped meals today, and I wonder if you’ll be okay…”
“It’s been dark in my eyes and eyes these days, and I’m really worried…”
“So, really. “This is my first time seeing a lady like that.”
The room where Siana is lying.
In front of it, a little distance away, two employees were whispering and having a conversation. As the employee, who appears to be a bit older of the two, sighs and complains, the employee who appears to be a bit younger nods his head in agreement.
“But isn’t it a little strange?”
“What?”
“You may be a relative, but to worry so much about someone you never saw when you were young…”
“Why does he say that?”
“That’s right! If you think about it, it’s not that strange, right? “You probably felt it was strange too.”
“Yeah, but…”
“So, is it possible that the young lady is-“
The two employees continued to mutter more, and then, feeling their gaze coming from somewhere, they carefully turned their heads towards her. And at the same time, surprise appears in his eyes and the conversation stops.
At the end of their gaze, a woman with blond hair mixed with black hair was approaching.
He was one of the people everyone who worked in this mansion knew.
The daughter of a couple who has worked as an employee at the mansion for a long time and is an executive among the employees.
One of the friends of the young lady they serve.
And one of the neighborhood friends with whom he played in the alley as a child is now a person who has to worry about spreading gossip about them to the young lady’s ears.
“… Becky.”
Becky said, receiving their worried looks.
“She was looking for Isabella, and thanks to her, I know where she is.”
At her words, both of their complexions turn blue. Soon they forcefully curl up the corners of their trembling mouths and speak.
“No, I’m kidding, Becky. You know? “Ever since we were kids, I’ve often said nonsense.”
“Yes, yes! When working as a worker, there is nothing to worry about other than chatting, so without realizing it… No. Can we just pretend not to notice because we did something wrong? Huh? Please… !”
The two approach her with their hands together, as if in earnest prayer, and pour out reasons, excuses, and apologies.
Becky looked at them and opened her mouth.
“Don’t worry. “Because I have no intention of talking about it.”
Just as she was about to pass them, one reached out her hand and grabbed her wrist. Becky grabbed it pretty hard and frowned without realizing it.
“Oh, sorry, did it hurt? I’m really sorry, but you’re really not going to talk about it, are you? Even if you look at old memories?”
The person holding her wrist seemed to be surprised, and even though he took her hand away, his eyes did not take off Becky’s urging.
Becky looks at her, stroking her wrists, frowning slightly at her pain. Her blue eyes showed a faint sneer between her eyes, as if she was worried that Becky would talk about this, but she was taking care of her last pride.
An unpleasant sense of déjà vu passes by, and she realizes what it was.
In her childhood, before she became friendly with Mason and Lucia, it was Mary with whom she played.
She took the lead in bullying her, under the pretense of playing games, to the extent that adults could not blame her.
Ah.
She remembered.
“… “I don’t want to talk about it.”
At her answer, Mary lets out a sigh of relief. Becky laughs at her and spits out her backstory.
“But who were you?”
After enjoying for a moment the sight of Mary’s expression barely suppressing its deterioration, Becky passes them by.
That night I went to the funeral of Mr. Gordon’s wife, Mrs. Adelaide. As young Becky lay in bed, she began to crystallize the ideas she had heard about Mr. Gordon.
A man whom no one knows in this town.
A man who was so influential that not only his mother and father, but also the adults in the next house and next door all attended to convey their condolences to him.
Children tend to be more sensitive than adults. Although he may not have been able to define what he felt, each and every small change can be caught more quickly with a pure gaze.
Becky felt the tension of the other adults surrounding Gordon there.
While everyone is looking sad and solemn.
They were looking for the best moment to express their condolences to each other.
They took turns going in front of Gordon and bowing their heads to convey their sadness. Becky watched them one by one from afar.
As the sequence progressed, they spoke in trembling voices, as if they were so sad, wiping away tears and expressing how much they were mourning their departed wives.
Even more sadly and eloquently than the person in front of me. As they put into words the grace of Lady Adelaide that they may have truly worn.
The way they rushed forward after the funeral to leave a good impression on him was like moths throwing themselves at a lantern.
Becky knew instinctively. When she does something wrong, her parents’ harsh scolding is very similar to the fear of being spanked, and when she fake cries and apologizes.
What Becky felt as she watched it all was discomfort.
It was a feeling similar to homophobia. To her, her parents were adults and people who exercised absolute power in her home.
Because she knew that her judgment, praise, and compensation for her good and bad were all decided through the mouths and judgments of her parents, her parents were like absolute figures in the world that made up her.
But her parents, just like when she cried out in front of her parents and confessed her mistakes.
The sight of her crying uncontrollably in front of Gordon made her face, which knew nothing, get hot.
It was a feeling that was too difficult for a child to define.
Embarrassed. She feels disconnected from the fact that her parents are not what she knew.
She recalled the moment of her funeral, staring at her dark ceiling with her sleepless eyes wide open.
She accepts her parents’ reactions to her rewards and punishments with an unchanging, sad expression.
He didn’t bow his head like others, and he didn’t force himself to cry.
He had no need to worry about what others thought, and the handshakes, nods, and thank-yous he gave to everyone who came to him were accepted as a favor.
Becky quietly covered herself with the blanket and imagined herself in Gordon’s position.
The way other people bow their heads in front of you to make yourself look good, the way you look at yourself to win her favor.
Her heart was racing. She wanted to be like Gordon.
She imagined herself taking it for granted, with her children coming up to her to show off, praising her and ingratiating herself with sweet treats and gifts.
If Becky had that much influence, she would have no one to scold her, much less beat her.
From then on, Becky wanted to be superior to others.
It was a dream that was not much different from what a child wanted at that age, but I had no idea that the attitude he had made at that time would become the first step to becoming involved with Isabella in the future.
Isabella knocked on the door where Sianna and Isabella were.
“… Come in.”
After more silence than needed, permission was given, and Isabella opened the door.
The first thing Becky noticed was the smell that filled the room.
A dizzying sensation, a mixture of the smell of her disinfectant, the smell of dust in her deserted room, and the smell of her patients, hit her as she opened the door.
To put it bluntly, it was such an ominous smell that even she, who had never experienced death, couldn’t help but think of the word. The air was uncomfortable for her to put her feet into, but Becky gave it her strength and took her steps.
When Isabella realized that the person who had just entered her room was not her servant, but Becky, who was standing right next to her and looking at her quietly.
Isabella raised her head and looked at her for a moment before opening her mouth.
“I never called you.”
Isabella’s dry words made her turbulent heart sink.
I have never called. It was a natural story. To her, he was that kind of person. Just like her other users, she can draw from her own world at her convenience.
But for Becky, Isabella wasn’t someone she could deal with so easily.
“… “Let’s talk.”
Isabella didn’t notice the change, but Becky was trying her best not to shiver.
